


Famous Last Words

by Lady_and_the_Stars



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Do not read unless you've finished the entire show, Famous Last Words, Hopefully this won't be too bad, Humor in the beginning, It's Jack so there will definitely be flirting, Probably some sexual innuendos, There Will Be Sadness, This is Torchwood people, if you didn't expect innuendos I'm disappointed in you, mild swearing, there will be humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_and_the_Stars/pseuds/Lady_and_the_Stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after losing his team...two years since the surviving members of Torchwood Three departed. Gwen and Jack have rarely spoken since then. Rex has been trying to pursue a normal life - at the price of not accepting what lays in his very long future. Jack's been plagued with nightmares of the past. He can't escape what haunts him, so instead he takes solace in trying to rebuild Torchwood Three. New adventures and new risks present themselves as Jack begins to manage the rift and all that comes through it once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Famous Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> "I have tried so hard to do right."  
> ~Grover Cleveland. June 24th, 1908.

It wasn't like he wanted to go inspecting odd, abandoned buildings in the dead of night. But something called to him. A sort of longing was taking up residence in his head, and if he could just make a new base for Torchwood Three then maybe some of that longing would cease to exist. Although he couldn't quite pinpoint what he was longing for. An involvement in alien affairs that happened to come across the rift? The sense of adventure and danger he always got from investigating a strange case? Or perhaps maybe he just missed the old team being together. After all he was only human. His last team's death had taken a huge toll on him, both mentally and physically, but he hadn't really absorbed it all until all the chaos in the world became quiet again. He missed Tosh and Owen. He missed Gwen and the closeness they once shared. Hell, he even missed Rex and Esther. He couldn't save Esther, however, and he couldn't save any of the others either. Wasn't that part of his stupid job? To save people? And yet he never could save the ones he cared about most. There was still one name that ran through his mind every night. Plaguing his nightmares and dreams. He couldn't make peace with what had happened no matter how hard he tried. Ianto Jones was supposed to be the one that stayed with him. But he let Ianto go, too, with all his failed promises. He missed Ianto's laugh, his silly little grin, the way he tapped his foot in a sort of nervous habit. He missed the other man's jokes, his stories of childhood adventures, and his ever-so-amazing late night suggestions. So Ianto became the motivation Jack needed to restart Torchwood Three. And there he stood; in front of a large, condemned building with an even larger basement. It didn't look like much and only had two floors but Jack only needed it for a short time while the city was rebuilding the site where the Hub once resided.

Vines covered the exterior brick. The once-white concrete steps leading up to the older styled doors were weathered and crumbling. Only adding to the eeriness was the unique way the moonlight was casting shadows across it's grimy windows, making the entire property seem as if it came out of a horror film. Something about that place didn't sit right with Jack - but he ignored the feeling piercing his gut and ventured towards the doors anyway. He was careful not to trip over a loose piece of one of the steps or any of the unruly weeds growing in the cracks. It took some effort to pry the doors open. He assumed it had been quite some time since somebody last bothered with the place. Jack instantly shut the doors behind him, cloaking himself in utter darkness. Better to get his eyes adjusted to the dark as soon as possible. He only hoped nothing attacked him in the meantime. Jack didn't dare a step until his eyes adjusted - why risk the extra danger? All the rooms seemed to be connected, in an open-floor plan, rather than divided by walls. Jack considered that a rather helpful detail of the first floor. Only he realized the place was clean, a bit too clean, given it's exterior condition. Not a speck of dust was to be seen. Everything was neat and tidy. Papers and files were sitting in a neat stack on a rugged desk in the corner of the living room to the left. All the furniture was still in place; everything had a look about them that said 'worn,' but it was as if someone had recently cleaned the place. And those files only added to Jack's suspicion.

He pulled his gun out from his waistband and pointed it out in front of him. He ventured forward, careful not to make too much sound. As he throughout the fist floor he nudged doors open, checking for anyone that could be hiding. If anyone else was there they certainly wouldn't want an intruder to know. Each room was the same as the last: clean, neat, and very minimalist. Still, no one could be found. Maybe he was just being paranoid after all his years of searching for the signs of the unusual. It could just be that the city sent someone in to clean since it was newly listed for sale. Nothing odd. It was a plausible excuse. Jack lowered his gun and tucked it back into his waistband. This was absolute nonsense. He never should have considered re-starting Torchwood Three. It was meant to be over. He was supposed to be dead. Oh, he was supposed to be dead so many times over. He doubled back to the living room and flicked the switch to the lights. To his surprise, they started up. Jack raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden bright lights. Perhaps that's why he didn't take notice of the object placed on the floor in front of him. He stepped on the object, startling him, and causing him to take a step back. He was sure it wasn't on the floor when he arrived. Which meant someone placed it there on purpose. A blue transparent light shot up around him. A force-field. One that he recognized all too well. 

"Well, I'll be damned," Jack chuckled. "A portable prison cell." There was no way to reach to device to turn it off. He'd have to wait until the battery died (only an hour) or hope that whoever trapped him was feeling rather generous. His gun was of no use. Even if he fired it the bullet would only bounce off the force-field and hit him instead. He never should have ignored his feeling about that place. Of course with his luck he'd get trapped with no way out. 

"Aren't we all?" A voice with a welsh accent rang out in reply. Out of the shadows stepped a woman - the person Jack assumed that owned the portable prison cell. She was glaring at Jack with a look that could only be described as fierce. "Damned, that is." 

"That depends on your meaning. Judging by the looks of you, I'd say you're one of the damned." She was not entirely that tall, although she couldn't be called short either. Rather, she stood at a height just below the average. Dirty blonde curls brushed the edges of her shoulder blades. She held the stance of someone on a mission. 

"The almighty Jack Harkness, living up to his reputation. But I don't appreciate you barging in here. Mind telling me why you did?" She asked. 

"I don't usually answer the questions of people who know my name when I've never met them," he deadpanned. 

"Your name gets around when you start investigating alien circumstances. I hear you're one of the hotshots. So are you going to tell why you broke into my place or not?" 

"First of all, I doubt it's 'your place' given the building's outside condition. You don't want anyone to know you're in here. So you keep the outside looking condemned. It's not particularly close to other buildings so you don't happen to come across many invasions," he flashed her a grin. "Nor do you have to worry about someone spotting you coming in or out. Most private investigators don't have to hide in a secluded place. You mentioned alien circumstances. Is that the reason you've also broken into here?" 

She gaped at him. He was smarter than she gave him credit for. It was true; she'd chosen this place because she thought no one would bother her. Although she wasn't exactly a private investigator. More like a nurse. That is, until she witnessed something that tore her from her normal-and-boring life. No one ever really believed her though. So she went and investigated on her own. "It's not your place either." 

"I don't take kind to being trapped. Although I admire that you used a portable prison cell. Very high-tech. I'd also admire you turning it off so we could talk. It seems like we're using the place for similar purposes." Jack suggested. He didn't know what she was capable of and didn't like being at her mercy. 

"And what purpose would that be?" She asked, walking until she was standing a foot away from where Jack was. It was easy not to fear someone when you knew they couldn't attack you.

"I run an organization called Torchwood - or I did - and I'm looking to rebuild my team. I intend on using this building for my base. There's a rift through time and space and it runs straight through Cardiff. We're outside the government, and beyond the police. I track down all that comes through the rift; help to arm the human race for any more alien problems. Everything's already changed but no one really knows how to deal with it yet. So that's where I come in. As soon as I can rebuild a team." He explained, giving her the basic details. She seemed mildly interested, which could work on Jack's behalf. If he could convince her that they were there for the same thing then he could convince her to turn off the damn cell device. And then maybe he could recruit her for the new team. 

"You're right, I suppose. In a way we are here for the same reason." Her face took a softer look now as she began recalling the past. "My brother was killed just three weeks ago by some - some monster. It was late and I had to go pick him up from his friend's house. My bloody car broke down halfway home so we started walking. And this thing came out of nowhere. It was large and had this horrible look about it. It's face was tan and waxy, not at all like anything human. Except for it's eyes. They held so much hate and rage. At first we thought it was some lunatic in a mask trying to scare us, but then it lashed out and attack him. Broke his neck and gouged out his throat...he was killed instantly. Then all it did was hiss at me and run. I called the police and tried to tell them what happened. They said I was suffering from shock. That I hallucinated in order it make it some surreal or some bollocks. But I know what I was and I know it was real. They're out there looking for some human who did it when it wasn't human at all. They're looking in all the wrong places. So here I am, 'investigating.'" She finished with a twinge of sadness before turning to her previous hardened look. She hated the fact that she just rambled on to a complete stranger something that was so personal and recent to her. But she needed help in her search. She had no clue what to even look for. Or what to do once she found the creature that murdered her brother. Whatever this 'Torchwood' was sounded like the right place to be if she wanted to get justice.

Jack gave her a look of understanding and sympathy. Of course he had dealt with this before. Once, with Owen after his girlfriend's death by an alien parasite in her brain. Loved ones always searched for an answer about what truly happened to the dearly departed. It came with a price, however: no one ever believed them about the true events, always chalking it up to something less science-fiction. People were more open now to accepting the unusual but it was still hard. "I think what you're describing is a Weevil. They're humanoid creatures that live in the sewers. Occasionally, one will go rogue - come above ground and kill a human. They are hundreds of them living beneath us. We don't quite know what they are yet."

The woman finally reached down and turned off the cell. Both of them had deemed the other as, well, not a threat. "If I were to join our team does it mean I can find the Weevil that killed him?"

"I don't know. I can't guarantee you'll find the exact one. There are so many living here. But you can certainly look. But this job isn't about vengeance. It's about helping the human race. You can't forget that. There are a lot of risks to this job. It's a lot to deal with." He begun to smirk. "But with a fierceness as strong as yours I have a feeling you'll join. What's your name?"

"Morgan Clyburn," she scoffed. "And if I happen to reject your offer?"

"Well, Morgan, then I guess I'll just have to be thoroughly disappointed."

Morgan regarded him with a look that said she was unsure if he was being serious. It was always hard to tell with Jack and in time she might just learn that. She started to answer Jack when blinding lights managed to flood through the windows.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so terribly sorry it's short and not quite very good. I hope it's decent though. Thank you for reading~


End file.
